Not Forgotten
by Graykiss
Summary: Severus told Hermione to obliviate herself if he died. Hermione is torn between obeying her husband, or keeping her precious, shortlived memories. HGSS. In honour of Remembrance Day.
1. To Forget or Not to Forget

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I wish I did. You know the drill. **

_**Author's Note: **__This story was written in honour of Remembrance Day. Remember those who died in wars to save our lives. Always remember._

_**EDIT 8/21/2007:** I realize that I published this story nearly two years ago, but I decided to edit this story and fix my mistakes. _

**Not Forgotten**

To Forget or Not to Forget

You stare at the grave in the cemetery before you. You feel a tear run down your cheek. You ignore it. It has been seven months, exactly seven months, since that fateful night. While it has been such a long time, you remember it like yesterday.

"Had all those days, all those wonderful days, meant nothing to him?" you wonder. You highly doubt it.

You remember the war. The war between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort: your best friend, his worst enemy. You remember Lord Voldemort casting a spell at you: Avada Kedavra.

You were too stunned to move. Severus Snape, however, was not. The awful flash of green is all to vivid to you. You see Severus, your love, crashing down in front of you. _Saving you._

"Severus," you weep, "why? Why did you save me?"

You hear the wind as if a response. Your heart beats loudly. You really, truly loved him, you realize. You don't want to. A loud, anguished sob escapes from your mouth.

You remember your first year at Hogwarts. Severus had looked at you with an evil stare. He had looked so ugly. You don't think of him like that anymore. His greasy hair hanging down in front of his face, his large nose, his pale complexion. Ugly. That was before.

Now, his greasy hair does not look so greasy. It looks aged. He had been through a lot, you know. It is not greasy. It is extremely soft. You remember how surprised you were.

His large nose is not as large as others say. In fact, you admired his nose. It had been broken many times before, fighting against evil. It shows he was a man who cared, though he did not show, about others over himself. Over teasing.

His pale complexion shows he was a hard worker, and takes his job seriously. The potions master he was, staying inside the dungeons, day and night, with minimal sleep, preparing potions for Dumbledore. To help kill Voldemort. To overcome evil.

You remember your second year. You stole from him. He knew, but he didn't take points. He even cared that much.

In your third year, he ran in front of you when Remus tried to attack. He did not want to be a hero. He merely wanted you to live.

In your fourth year, he said to you, when you were down most, "I see no difference." Harry and Ron never saw the apologetic look on his face. But you did. You knew he had to favour Slytherin in order to keep spying for Dumbledore. Harry and Ron never put the pieces together. You did.

In your fifth year, he did nothing to torture you, nor did he do anything to show you he cared. Your best friends simply saw him as the man who wanted to make their lives miserable. You saw him as the man who took an opportunity to change, act normal, at a time he could.

During your sixth year, he killed your beloved Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Then you knew for sure. You saw the pensieve memory that Harry showed you. There was a small flicker of terror in his eyes as he shot the deadly curse at Dumbledore's chest. You knew he was told to. To save himself. To kill Dumbledore. You knew for sure. Of course, you never told anyone.

Finally, your seventh year. You saw Severus during the summer, and actually had a civil conversation. You kissed him for the first time. Severus told you he finally had someone to confide in, someone who would keep his secret. You felt proud. You felt loved.

He taught you how to be a Legilimens. You could read his mind, and he could read yours. He told you it would help you during the war. It did.

Then, before Lord Voldemort shot the killing curse at you and Severus jumped in front, you could hear Severus' thoughts. _Hermione, I love you. Remember that. Remember what I told you to do. Do not forget me._ Then he died. Harry, Ron, and many others thought he just wanted to be the hero. You will never tell them the truth.

You miss him more than you realize.

He made you realize that life is too precious to be wasted. He went through a lot, just like you have. He took his job seriously, just like you have. He fought evil, just like you have. Though he died young, he had a full life. He experienced hardships, heartaches, triumphs, and love.

Love. He experienced love. Just like you have.

You have not been through as much as Severus has been through. You are younger than he. You have experienced hardships, heartaches, triumphs, and love, too, but you have a life to live. You are no child, but you are barely an adult. Severus was an adult since he was a young boy.

Confusing? Not when you think about it.

You put one hand on your stomach and sigh. She is your child now. Without a father. Just your child. It will be hard raising a child, explaining everything you and your Severus have been through.

Maybe you don't have to tell her.

You stare back down at the grave. "Severus, I will love you forever. I will never forget what you have done to me. But right now, I don't know what to do. I'm nineteen-years-old, Severus! I'm also pregnant with your child. I'm sorry I never told you. I don't know what to tell her when she is born. I will preserve my memories of you, like you suggested before, telling me what to do if you died. I will get Professor McGonagall to cast a small 'obliviate' on me. Someday I will look back on those memories, but not now. Just like you told me."

You let out a small sigh. "I better go now, Severus. I love you. Don't forget me."

You turn around and realize you cannot do this. You cannot lose the memories of the one you loved most, no matter what Severus told you. _But you always obeyed him! But how can you do it without losing your memory of him? It doesn't make sense. _You decided, once again, to follow Severus' orders. For Severus.

You walk out of the cemetery and close the gate. You look at the grave one final time.

You begin to walk home.


	2. To Enter or Not to Enter

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I wish I did. You know the drill.

_**A/n:** This is an HGSS story, which, in case you did not know, means Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. If you do not enjoy this pairing, please leave now. If you do, well, enjoy the story._

_I'm so glad you're all enjoying this story so far. Y'all noticed my flaw in the plot... yes, Hermione's been pregnant for far too long. I'm sorry about that... wasn't thinking when I wrote that part. Oh, well._

_This chapter is in Severus' POV, in second-person. IMPORTANT: This section is in the past, a few days after Severus died. Let's just say that Severus is now resting in Heaven, with no suffering. _

_Hey, I'm a Christian. I am sorry if you disagree with the first part of Severus' chapter, because it is the only way I can write this. _

_Anyway, let me continue with the story. Final chapter will be in their daughter's POV._

**Not Forgotten**

To Enter or Not to Enter

(Two days after Severus' death...)

A guardian angel looks you over. "Well, Severus Snape, it's now up to you. You have a few more hours before your soul completely enters the Realm of the Dead."

You nod numbly, still in your human form. You know what the rule is in the Realm of the Dead: No suffering, no pain. Looking down on those still on earth, the loved ones you left behind, brings you pain... and you are not even fully in the Realm of the Dead yet.

This is your time to remember the life you left on earth before you enter the Realm of the Dead. To remember once more.

You see the memories flashing before your eyes: Angry memories, sad memories, happy memories... and loving memories. The memories of Hermione Jane Granger.

You never thought you were a kind man, a good man. Hermione Granger proved you wrong. She saw you as a man who loved and thought of others before yourself. You always thought that was an exaggeration. Maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn't.

She said once, in her seventh year at Hogwarts, "Professor Snape, you are a good man. I know it. I've known you for almost seven years. You just need to believe it yourself."

It was one of the kindest statements you'd ever heard, especially since it was directed to you. You said that you'd never forget that.

You then remember one of the worst memories of your life: The day you accepted the position to spy for Dumbledore. You became a Death Eater all for the sake of the war. You didn't want to participate in it, but you did.

Your reputation, what was left of it, went spiraling down. No one liked you anymore. No one even knew you for the small amount of goodness in you. No, to the public, you were either 'Big, greasy Death Eater', 'Greasy bat of the dungeons', or 'Snape the git'.

Dumbledore supported you through your Death Eater life. He was one of the only ones who did. You suspected that Minerva McGonagall knew that you were really a spy, and so did a couple other staff members, but they were only the ones close to Dumbledore. McGonagall knew because she and Dumbledore were practically a couple, and Pomfrey, because she helped get you potions after the Death Eater meetings.

Many words flash into your mind, connected with being a Death Eater:

Cruel.

Hatred.

Bastard.

Life.

Death.

Those five words pretty much sum up all your feelings of being a Death Eater. It was a cruel job. Many got used to it, and it being their sanctuary. You shudder to think of that. You never got used to it.

Hatred. You felt hatred towards the Dark Lord since you were recruited. You doubt you will ever get over that hateful feeling.

You were a bastard, going around and killing innocent people. It was all to get rid of the Dark Lord, once and for all. But, as much as you wanted to get rid of him, you never wanted to kill. You were only Slytherin for your spying and lying abilities. Nothing more.

Life. You gave up your life to be a spy, and you took lives as a spy. Either way, you were on the losing end.

Death. You killed others, and you felt like the Dark Lord had killed you, once you had become a Death Eater. In a way, he did. Your life, your normal life, was over. Your life as a spy had just begun.

"Hermione," you whisper, sadness overcoming you. You miss her. You miss her so much, it hurts.

You remember the instructions you gave her, to obliviate herself after you died. You wonder, will she? You aren't sure whether you want to agree with what you said, or bite back your words. While you want the best for her, you don't want her to forget you. If you hadn't cared for her so much, you would have eaten your words. But you care for her, oh, so much, and you want the best for her. You don't want any pain for Hermione, either.

You remember how Hermione had always called you 'Severus', no matter how many times you asked her to shorten it. But, then again, she was always your 'Hermione'. You did not care for nicknames, for it wasn't the name that mattered; it was the person inside who did.

At one point in your life, you wanted to be the hero. Then, you realized, all you wanted was to be cared for. It is true, the saying that no one can live a life without someone to care for them. Though, you can live a life _thinking _others care for you, while they do not; they are only following your directions out of fear.

Death Eaters. They were not friends of the Dark Lord.

Your friends? Were your colleagues your true friends? No, they were merely acquaintances, with the exception of Albus Dumbledore. But was he true friend, or were you just his spy? Was he being nice to you all this time because he truly cared for you, or was he merely being polite? You can never be too sure with Albus Dumbledore.

Then there was Hermione. She was special. In a way, she was one of your first _true _friends. More than friends. Lovers. Significant others.

Your friendship evolved around something you hadn't ever felt before...

Love. Nor has the Dark Lord ever felt it. You never thought you would. You are glad you did.

You miss her, so much. But, if you really care for her, you would do anything for her. You know what is best for her.

_Obliviate me from your memories, Hermione. I can't have you suffering any longer. You don't deserve it any more than I do._

You will always love her. But the situation is not in your hands right now.

You cannot control what Hermione does on earth, you can only hope.

You can only hope she will make the right decision.

_Hermione, I will love you forever, and I want the best for you, no matter what._

You enter the Realm of the Dead without another thought. The gates close.

_**A/n: **Yes, the Realm of the Dead is based on Heaven. Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and sorry for the long wait. Please review._

_-Sunny_


	3. To Remember or Not to Remember

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I wish I did. You know the drill. **

_**Author's Note: **__This story was written in honour of Remembrance Day. Remember those who died in wars to save our lives. Always remember._

_**EDIT 8/21/2007:** I realize that I published this story nearly two years ago, but I decided to edit this story and fix my mistakes. _

**Not Forgotten**

To Remember or Not to Remember

(Nine years after Severus' death...)

"Make a wish, Eileen," Hermione Granger, your mother, says proudly into your ear.

You peer down at the chocolate cake. You love chocolate cake. Your mother says it was a trait you picked up from her. You had asked, _Well, what did I pick up from my father, then? _Mum had looked puzzled and replied, _I don't know._

You remember how surprised you were at Hermione. A young, beautiful, extremely intelligent witch like herself couldn't even remember her own lover's name? Something was wrong.

"Make a wish," your mother urged once more, nudging you. The candle wax was slowly sliding down the candle, nearly touching the cake.

You think for a moment, then give a half smile. You blow out the candles.

There is clapping all around you: from your mother; from your godfathers, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley; from your godmother, Ginny Longbottom and her husband, Neville Longbottom; from your grandparents, Mark and Melenia Granger; and from Minerva McGonagall, whom you called 'Granny', seeing as she was like another grandparent to you. You have never met your father's parents, or at least, you don't think you have. You don't even know if they're alive.

Your mother smiles at you. "Happy tenth birthday, Eileen." With a smile, she adds, "What did you wish for?"

"If I tell you, it won't come true," you joke, giving a small smile.

Uncle Harry looks you over. "Now, you haven't been talking with Sybill Trelawney, have you, Eileen?"

"Yeah, Eileen, everything she says is rubbish," Uncle Ron mumbles, stuffing bits of cake into his mouth.

Granny Minerva laughs. "I agree, Ron. I wonder if she is still teaching at Hogwarts?"

Minerva McGonagall had left Hogwarts the year your mother was pregnant with you.

"I can't wait until next year," you speak up.

"Why is that?" Hermione asks.

You smile. "Because next year, I'll be witch, just like you, Mum."

"Oh, no! Another Hermione Granger?" Uncle Harry cries in mock despair. "Spare me, please."

Everyone chuckles, and Mum swats Uncle Harry playfully on the shoulder.

Then Mum turns serious and pauses for a few moments before responding to your statement. "Eileen, you are a half-blood." She glances at Granny Minerva, who looks down at her toes, as if hiding something. "I am a Muggle-born, as you know. Your father... well, I know he was either a half-blood, or a pure-blood; I'm not sure which. There is a small chance you might not be magical, Eileen. I just don't want you to be disappointed."

You blush and bite your lip. You had never considered the fact that you might not be magical after all. You gulp.

"You have nothing to worry about- well, not too much, anyway," Granny Minerva says to you. "Your mother was one of the most brilliant witches I have ever met in my lifetime- and that's saying a lot. As for your father, he was smart, very smart, and another powerful wizard. I have no doubt that you will be a witch, too." She pulls you into a huge hug.

You hug back, but realize: Granny Minerva was talking about my father. That means she knows something that you don't... and that Mum certainly does not.

"Excuse me for a moment, please," you answer politely. "Uncle Harry? Uncle Ron? Aunt Ginny? Could I, er, please talk with you?"

They all nod, looking puzzled, and even more puzzled as you pull them outside onto the porch. "I was wondering if you could tell me what you know about my father. You heard Granny Minerva talking. She _knows my father. She knows who he is._"

Uncle Ron, Aunt Ginny, and Uncle Harry all exchange glances. Uncle Harry clears his throat and says, "Ron, Ginny, could you please excuse us for a moment?"

They both nod and leave curtly.

You know Uncle Harry better than most of your other relatives, so you felt more relaxed asking him about you past. You knew he would answer without lying to you.

"Eileen, you need to understand this," he begins, looking quite nervous. "When I was seventeen, I was in a huge battle-"

"Lord Voldemort," you interrupt. "Mum told me about him and what you did. Very brave."

"Thank you," Uncle Harry responds, face flushed. "As I was saying, I defeated him. Ron wound up in St. Mungo's for about three months, getting heals. Your mother was fine. Snape, an old professor of mine jumped in front of her." He snorts. "Typical Snape; always wanting to be the hero. Like he even cared about your mother. He died, you know. Voldemort was aiming the killing curse at your mother, but Snape jumped in front, and he died. Then, about a year after Voldemort died, your mother invited us over here, and presented you to us. Whenever we asked who the father was, she would clam up and say, 'I don't really know'. I think she got her memories removed, Eileen." There were tears in Uncle Harry's eyes.

You feel tears streaming down your cheeks. "Why? Why did she take away her memories?"

Uncle Harry shrugs. "Maybe someone told her to. Maybe it was too painful for her." He glances down at me. "I'm sorry, Eileen. I really don't know."

"It's alright, Uncle Harry," you answer. But it isn't. It just keeps haunting you. _Who is your father_?

You and Uncle Harry sit down once again in the living room. You realize, the only way to find out about your father, is to ask Granny Minerva yourself.

"Granny Minerva? I was wondering if I could speak with you?" you say hopefully.

She nods, not at all looking surprised. She brings me up to the attic and says, "I was expecting this many years ago. I suspect you want to know about your father?"

"You knew him, didn't you?" you interrupt, a strange feeling overcoming you. "What was he like?"

Granny Minerva pauses. "He was a smart, young man. He was my colleague. We spent many days fighting with each other, in a friendly manner, of course. We worked together at Hogwarts, I as the Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor- your mother's house- and your father as the Potions Master, and Head of Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" you echo, surprised. The house in Hogwarts your uncles had told you such horrid tales about? The most loathed, cunning, evil, mysterious house of Hogwarts?

"Yes, Slytherin." Granny Minerva sees the horrified look on my face, and adds quickly: "Only for the fact that he was mysterious and cunning. He was not evil, or purely evil, at least. He would have done well in Ravenclaw, just like your mother. But, of course, the Sorting Hat knew that both Hermione and your father did not want to be recognized just for their smarts, but for more of their other qualities. Hermione wanted to be a brave, courageous girl, who was also a genius. Your father wanted to be known as a mysterious, but clever young man.

"So you see, Eileen, your father was a wonderful man, but he did not dare show it."

You smile proudly.

"I Obliviated your mother on your father's orders. She agreed. But, I only agreed after she emptied her memories into here." Granny Minerva picked up a large Pensieve and placed in on the table. "I think it's time you learned about your past- and time for Hermione to relive it."

You gasp. Your mother is standing in the doorway.

"Everyone went home," she whispers softly. "I think it's time I relearned, too."

The three of you stuck your heads into the Pensieve. In it, you learned about your father and your mother's secret relationship, everything he had done in the past, how he redeemed himself... and how he died.

"Father," you say quietly after returning back to the present. "Severus Snape..."

"I was engaged," Hermione sobs, her face in her hands. "I was engaged!"

You throw your arms around your mother. "I know, Mum. I know." You look up at Granny Minerva. "Granny... thank you so much... but it didn't answer... Why am I named as I am?"

Minerva herself is wiping her own tears off her face. "You were named after your grandmother, Eileen. She was Severus' mother."

You look up. "Can I meet her?"

Minerva gives you a sad smile. "She's dead, honey. I'm sorry."

"Oh." You pause for a moment. "My father was buried in that cemetery... I saw it, and my mother was patting her stomach. Could... could we... visit the cemetery?"

You stare at Granny Minerva hopefully, but it is your own mother who responds. "Of course, sweetie." She puts her long arms around you, the tears still visible and stained on her cheeks. "Let's go."

You arrive in the cemetery shortly, from driving. You stop at your father's grave. It is in good condition, as if someone had been cleaning and decorating it every once in awhile, though no one has. It surprises you.

"Dad," you say, looking down at the grave, "I love you. I know I never personally knew you, but I feel as if I do. I wish you were here." You turn to your mother.

You notice that Granny Minerva is hanging back, as if to give you and your mother some privacy. You turn to tell her that she can come, but she disappears in a cloud of smoke.

Your mother walks towards the grave and slowly, hand quivering, touches it. "Severus," she begins softly, "I miss you. I miss our life together, the short time we had." The tears are rolling once more. "A-and... I love you."

You take a seat on the grass next to your mother. It feels good, you decide, sitting next to your mother, and the grave of your father. It is not so depressing... it makes you feel... complete. You know your father now. You miss him, too.

You and Mum sit silently by the grave for a few minutes, reminiscing. Then, you say finally, "Let's go home?"

There is a short pause, but your mother replies: "Yes. We should go home."

But, before you leave, you hear your mother say quietly, "See, Severus? I couldn't have forgotten you. I loved you too much. I still do."

"_I know, Hermione," _you picture your father saying, _"I couldn't ever forget you, either."_

You head towards the car, feeling mixed emotions of happiness and sadness. You won't ever forget Severus Snape. You know your mother won't, either.

_Finis_


End file.
